All's Well that Ends Hell
by Hermione Eveningfall
Summary: This is a one shot fic I'd written about two or three years ago. Ichabod, Katrina and Young Masbath are sent once again to Sleepy Hollow, to investigate a series of queer disappearances. not connected to Frozen Mist FYI


All's Well that Ends Hell

Part I

New York City, 1800

Dawn broke at last, casting a faint copper glow over the great city of New York. Already, the cobblestone streets were bustling with activity, but the residents of number seven, Hickory Street were still asleep. A faint sound of snoring came from the master bedroom, where Constable Ichabod Crane lay in his large, four-poster bed, his arms around his new wife, the previous Katrina Van Tassel.

Katrina's soft brown eyes fluttered open at the sound of her husband's snoring, and she smiled to herself, snuggling against his bare chest, adjusting her vision to the darkness. The faint smell of sausages wafted through the crack of their door, filling her nostrils, and making her stomach growl slightly. Katrina gently moved Ichabod's arms away so she could sit up, and gave a quiet yawn. She realized at that moment, that Ichabod had stolen nearly half of the covers away during the night, so she was left with about a fraction of what she had started off with. Katrina shook her head, as she slid to the floor, grimacing as her bare feet touched the wood.

She walked over to the window pulling open the brown curtains slightly. She gazed out at many people bustling about with overcoats and heavy breeches, dresses and shawls, protecting themselves against the mid-autumn chill. Katrina smiled to herself, shivering slightly as she rubbed her arms, but then suddenly frowned. Had it only been a year? Only twelve brief months since she'd lost her father, and so many others, to the depredations of her stepmother and the evil spectre of the Horseman? She shuddered at the memory, then forced it from her mind.

Katrina grabbed her robe from their armoire, wrapping it tightly around her before descending to the medium-sized kitchen. She noticed their ten-year-old servant, Young Masbath, tending to a large black iron frying pan set over the crackling fire, bacon sizzling merrily. He had his back to her, and was whistling quietly to himself as he concentrated on his work.

A plate of fat, brown sausages already waited on the table, along with some slices of yesterday's bread that had been dipped in egg and cooked in the sausage drippings until they were a lacy gold. Also, a few stacks of Johnnycakes surrounded the rim of the plate, and Katrina noticed the large mixing bowl off to the side.

"Good morning, Young Masbath," Katrina suddenly greeted, causing the boy to gasp and glance over his shoulder.

"Good morning." He smiled and turned away again, poking the bacon with a fork to see if it was nearly ready. "I've made you and Ichabod breakfast. Is he awake yet?"

Katrina shook her head, yawning again and covering her mouth with one hand. "No. He got home very late last night from his patrol, so I decided to let him sleep in for once, since he has off." She sighed. "Goodness knows, he needs more rest than the two of us combined!" she walked over to stand beside the boy, inspecting his work. "This was very sweet of you, Jonathan." Katrina complimented, planting a small kiss on top of the lad's head. Young Masbath looked up, startled. He had not heard anyone outside of his immediate family call him by his real name in ages. He blushed, and took the pan away, dumping the hot bacon onto the platter along with the rest of the food.

"I don't mind it," He admitted, putting the pan into the sink and wiping his hands against his breeches. "I wanted to."

Katrina beamed. "Thank you." She repeated, feeling her stomach rumble with hunger again. "I'll tell you what. Why don't we take Ichabod's breakfast upstairs to him?" she suggested.

Young Masbath grinned. "Yes, that would be a good idea! Only I still have one more thing to make..."

Katrina nodded in understanding. "Well, let me go and wake him so he'll be ready for when you come up." She hurried back upstairs, walking into the room. Ichabod was still sleeping like a log, still keeping all of the covers to himself for the most part. She moved to his side of the bed, putting her hands on her hips. "Ichabod?" she called, and he didn't move. "Ichabod!" Nothing. Katrina chuckled to herself as she shook his shoulder. "Wake up, sleepyhead." She added. Ichabod turned over on his back, but his eyes were still closed. He looked so adorable asleep, but Katrina knew he had to get up eventually.

Young Masbath soon entered the room, carrying his master's platter and a mug of tea, standing faithfully in the doorway, watching the process with amusement. Katrina heard the boy come in and turned towards him, smirking a little. "He's quite impossible," she whispered, and Young Masbath giggled, setting the things down on the chair in the corner.

"Have you tried grabbing his foot?"

Katrina stared. "What?" she asked with a laugh. "What are you talking about?"

Young Masbath grinned. "Well, whenever I wouldn't wake, my father would take hold of my foot if it was sticking out from the blankets..."

Katrina understood. "Ah, I see." She turned to Ichabod, and a rather evil smile crept over her lips. "I've got another idea," she whispered, and took hold of the edge of the comforter, giving it a great yank. Young Masbath jumped as the covers were pulled away, and he saw his master's dark eyes open almost instantly. Ichabod said nothing, but just lay on the bed staring at her in amazement. She smirked at him before going over to open the curtains.

"Katrina?" Ichabod croaked finally, rubbing his face with his hand. "What are you doing?" Staring into the blinding sunlight made his nose itch, and he sniffed slightly.

"It is time to get up, love." She explained, sitting down beside him, balling the blankets in her arms and setting them at the foot of the bed. When Katrina was able to see his face more clearly, she frowned. "Ichabod? Are you all right?" she asked hopefully. Young Masbath stepped forward.

"I think he's going to..."

"_HiSHOOO!_" Ichabod sneezed loudly, startling them.

"Bless you!" Katrina and Young Masbath told him in unison.

"Sir, I've made breakfast for you this morning." Young Masbath broke the awkward tension that had suddenly come over the room, and watched as Katrina fetched Ichabod a clean handkerchief from his desk.

Ichabod blew his nose as Young Masbath carried the platter over, and set it down on the bed with a smile. "Thank you, Young Masbath. You did not have to bring it to me in bed." He added, once he handed the handkerchief to Katrina, who grimaced before putting it back on his desk. Young Masbath shrugged.

"It was no trouble, sir, really. You deserve it."

Ichabod picked up the plate and began to eat, savoring each bite. He had not eaten anything so wonderful in a long time. "Young Masbath, this is delicious." He held out his arm, initiating a hug, and the boy accepted. "Thank you very much."

Young Masbath beamed. "You're welcome, sir." He pulled away.

"What time is it anyway, Katrina?" Ichabod asked as he finished the last of his bacon.

"Nine thirty. And before you panic, you took off today."

Ichabod sighed with relief. "Good. I'd forgotten." He handed Young Masbath his plate. "Have you both eaten? Because there are some things I would like to do today in town, and I could use your help."

Katrina shook her head. "Not as yet," she admitted. Ichabod raised an eyebrow at her.

"Go and eat! I'll get dressed and meet you downstairs." He kissed Katrina on the lips, and smiled at Young Masbath. "Thank you again, lad." He added, waving them off. Katrina urged Young Masbath downstairs, and the two sat down at the large table in the kitchen, spooning out their own servings from the central platter. For a few moments, neither of the two spoke, and the only sound that could be heard were the clanking of forks and knives against plates. They could hear Ichabod's footsteps above, and smiled at each other.

"I wonder what he wants to do today," Young Masbath whispered. "I'll bet he's never had a day off from work in his life!"

Katrina smiled. "Well, I know he was mumbling something about..."

"All right."

They lifted their heads to the sound of Ichabod's voice, and watched as he came into the kitchen, dressed in his usual black breeches, black leather boots, white linen shirt and black overcoat. Katrina stood up hurried over to hug and kiss him.

Ichabod glanced at Young Masbath, who was finishing the last of his breakfast, his eyes twinkling. "You know what else I think we could do today?" she asked hopefully. "We could see about incorporating more color into your wardrobe!"

Ichabod raised his eyes. "Why?"

"Do you not get a bit bored of all black?"

He chuckled. "We'll see, my dear."He kissed her again. "Young Masbath, are you nearly finished? I'd like to get a head start this morning."

Young Masbath nodded, setting down his fork and knife, pushing the bench back so he could stand. "Yes, sir."

"Do not rush on my account," Ichabod insisted, noticing that the boy still had a bit of food left on his plate.

"I'm finished, sir," Young Masbath promised.

Katrina put her hands on her hips. "But I am not," she teased. "Ichabod, do you expect me to go out into the city still wearing my nightgown?"

Ichabod blushed furiously. "Of course not...how foolish I am...go on and dress!"

Katrina laughed and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him close. "My dear Ichabod," she whispered, before letting go and hurrying upstairs. When she was gone, Ichabod cleared his throat and sat down at the table with Young Masbath. They waited patiently for Katrina to return, and an awkward silence took over the room.

"Did you sleep well, sir?" Young Masbath finally spoke, trying to break the tension, and causing Ichabod to jump a little.

"Yes, thank you. And yourself?" he coughed slightly.

Young Masbath laughed. "We're a sorry bunch, aren't we?" he teased, and Ichabod gave him a weak half-smile. Ichabod was grateful for Young Masbath, even if he did not feel that he could be the father-figure the boy needed. 'I would have been foolish to turn him down,' Ichabod thought to himself, watching as Young Masbath busied himself by cleaning up the dirty breakfast dishes, stashing them all into the sink. 'I do not know what I would do without him..."

Katrina eventually returned, and Ichabod felt his knees go weak at the sight of his wife. She wore one of her best gowns, made of cornflower blue and grey silk and linen. Around her neck, she wore the tiny, red cardinal pendant Ichabod had given her when they first arrived to New York, and she had on her old braclet, constructed of ribbon and a tiny slip of metal shaped into a star. Her long, golden curls hung loosely at her shoulders, and she stood waiting for further instruction.

"Katrina, you look beautiful," Ichabod breathed, startled at how easily he could say those words now. Before, he used to flush terribly and stutter, wishing he could slide through a hole in the ground. It was Katrina's turn to blush, which was easily visible beneath her pale skin. He planted a tender kiss on her forehead, before turning to Young Masbath.

"Go and fetch our coats if you will, and we'll be on our way."

Young Masbath hurried into the hallway, and pulled Ichabod's black overcoat, his own blue one (recently given to him by Ichabod as a late Christmas present), and Katrina's white and red cloak, off of the stand, and brought them back into the kitchen. "It looks quite cold outside today," Katrina shivered, fastening hers around the collar, and gasped once Ichabod opened the door, listening to its familiar creak. A few woodchips fell from the rim, narrowly missing Katrina's head by a fraction of an inch. "We really must have that worked on," she pointed out, as they descended the stone steps that led to the sidewalk.

"Where are we going, sir?" Young Masbath asked, preparing to make mental notes in his head in case things were forgotten before they came home later that afternoon.

"Let me see." Ichabod thought for a moment. "First, we must make a trip to the apothecary so we can replenish our supply of tealeaves for the coming winter. Then I am in need of fresh parchment and ink..."

"Fresh food for supper," Katrina added, "but we'll get that last."

Ichabod nodded. "That's correct. Do either of you wish to stop anywhere along the way?" he asked curiously, knowing that they had not been shopping for pleasure in quite a while. Ichabod's patrol schedule kept him rather busy from dawn until dusk, and Katrina spent most of her days doing household chores. Katrina also made it her duty to teach Young Masbath his lessons, and for an hour a day she sat in the parlour with him, teaching him his letters and basic sums.

"The bookshop," Young Masbath spoke up. "I've been meaning to look for some new adventure stories..." he paused. "If you do not mind of course."

Ichabod chuckled, ruffling the lad's hair for the second time that morning. "Of course not. Reading is an excellent hobby. My nose was always in a book when I was younger, and still is as a matter of fact, when I am off duty."

Katrina watched as a few horse and carriages pulled past all at once, and thought just how different life in New York was compared to her hometown of Sleepy Hollow. It was so busy here in the city, and though it was quite strange, she enjoyed it very much. The first stop was the bookstore, which was busy as usual. The owner was very glad to see them, greeting Constable Crane with a firm handshake, and nodding respectfully to Young Masbath and Katrina. "Welcome back, Constable Crane! Are you looking for anything in particular?"

Ichabod smiled as Young Masbath replied, "I want to look at the adventure stories." He said this with such seriousness that Katrina had to try her best not to giggle out loud. The owner chuckled.

"Right this way, my boy, right this way." He led Young Masbath down one of the narrow aisles, leaving Ichabod and Katrina to themselves for the time being.

"Is there something you would like to look at?" Ichabod whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist and urged her forward a few steps.

"Hmmm...I've not read Romeo and Juliet in a long time," she whispered, caressing his hand. They went over to the area where the works of William Shakespeare were kept, and she pulled out an old copy of Romeo and Juliet. Ichabod stepped back and watched as she opened the book and flipped through the worn pages, scrolling down a paragraph with her finger. She grinned at one of the famous sonnets, and began to recite. "Ay me!" she gasped, and Ichabod wrapped his arms around her shoulders, leaning his chin on her shoulder, so he could get a better look at the text.

"She speaks: O, speak again, bright angel! For thou art. As glorious to this night,being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes. Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him.When he bestrides the lazy pacing clouds. And sails upon the bosom of the air." He read, startling Katrina out of her concentration. She gazed over her shoulder, staring into his eyes.

"Ichabod, that was fantastic!" she complimented. "You know Shakespeare?"

"Not very well, but yes, I have read some of his work." He kissed the top of her head. "If you would like to buy that, I encourage you."

Katrina grinned. "Perhaps we could perform it at home?" she squeezed his arm. "Let us go and see what is keeping Young Masbath." She led him down the aisle and found the boy sitting on the stairs, his nose buried in a book that appeared to be about pirates, judging from the skull and crossbones painted on the front cover.

"Are you nearly ready?" Ichabod asked, trying not to sound impatient.

Young Masbath continued reading, clearly not having heard his mater at all. Ichabod turned to Katrina, startled. "Goodness, that book must be fascinating..." Katrina sat down beside him. Ichabod placed a hand on Young Masbath's shoulder softly, causing the boy to jump and nearly drop his book.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, but we have a lot to do. Is this what you want?" Ichabod asked.

Young Masbath nodded with excitement. "Yes, sir, if that's all right. It's wonderful...all about bloody pirate wars!"

Ichabod cringed slightly, and Katrina chuckled as he helped her stand. "Very good. We'll sit down and read it with you tonight after supper."

They soon paid for their books and left the shop.

The rest of the morning was spent gathering supplies for the house, including a large chicken for supper. Katrina tugged on Ichabod's hand just as they were beginning to return home around lunchtime, and he stopped. The idea of shopping for clothes for Ichabod did not happen, for everyone was quite exhausted after walking such a distance. "Perhaps next time," Katrina suggested as they turned once again onto Hickory Street, making sure Young Masbath was still behind them carrying the poultry.

"What's this?" Katrina spoke suddenly, pointing to the top step. When Ichabod peered over her shoulder, he saw a piece of yellowed parchment sticking out from under the door. Puzzled, he moved past her to pick it up, and unfolded the letter, reading the note it contained. Young Masbath studied his master's face, which was filled with concern.

"Ichabod?" Katrina asked nervously. "What is it?"

"We must leave as soon as possible," was all he said, unlocking the door and pulling it open, walking inside. Young Masbath and Katrina stared at each other, both completely confused.

"What are you talking about?" Young Masbath asked. "Leave to go where?"

"Sleepy Hollow..."

"What?!" Katrina cried in disbelief. "Why?!"

"I'll read you all the letter once we're in and settled," Ichabod promised.

Young Masbath's face had turned white as he took their coats into the hall, and hurried to hang the chicken from the ceiling in the kitchen. "Who wrote it, Ichabod?" Katrina asked, fiddling with her braclet.

"Wait until Young Masbath comes in."

Soon they were all gathered around Ichabod's large, overstuffed chair in the parlour. Katrina sat on her husband's lap and Young Masbath at his feet, all anxiously awaiting to hear the news of their hometown.

"_Constable Crane,_

_I regret to inform you that we are in great need of your assistance once again in Sleepy Hollow. The servants you hired to look after the Van Tassel estate have been mysteriously vanishing without a trace. Please come immediately, and more accurate details will be explained to you._

_Yours,_

_Hans Van Ripper_

Katrina let out a groan and covered her face with her hand as Young Masbath smacked head against Ichabod's knee, making a similar noise. "I don't mean to complain, sir, but we only got back..."

"A year ago, I know." Ichabod sighed. "But truly, we can't tell them we're not going to come. After all, it was a personal request and not of the high constable."

"It must have been sent a while ago if we just received it today," Katrina pondered out loud. "Ichabod, do you want to return? So soon I mean? It's going to be difficult, especially after all that has happened."

"I understand that, Katrina," Ichabod promised.

"I don't want to go back, sir," Young Masbath squeaked. "I hate to sound disagreeable, but..."

"And you must let your superiors know of this, certainly," Katrina added.

Ichabod looked at her seriously, and held up his hands. "That will be done, Katrina. And we are going back to Sleepy Hollow to take on this case, end of discussion. The two of you had best start packing, and tomorrow we'll have to go and start gathering provisions for the trip."

Katrina and Young Masbath stared at one another, and silently stood, walking out of the room. Ichabod watched them leave, still holding Van Ripper's letter in his hand, reading it once again. They would have to stay at the manor when they arrived, despite the supernatural occurances that seemed to be taking it over. Ichabod remembered his shock of realizing that, because Baltus Van Tassel was dead and Lady Van Tassel kidnapped by the horseman, the rights to the estate became his when he married Katrina. In fact, he'd passed out when she told him, and it took him a week to get over the denial of the news.

He sat and thought about how he was going to introduce the new case to the high constable the following morning before they left. Ichabod had never really taken on a private case before, and was curious to see what he could do. He had been sent to Sleepy Hollow practically kicking and screaming, as more of a punishment due to his thoughts on scientific investigations. Katrina and Young Masbath had accompanied him when he went to report the verdict of the headless horseman case to his superiors, and Ichabod was quite certain that had they not been with him, he would have been fired. The more he thought about his superiors, the angrier he felt. 'I could possibly resign and become a private investigator,' he thought to himself, squeezing the letter tightly in his hands. 'But then I would not be able to support Katrina and Young Masbath...' he paused. How stupid he was! Katrina had mentioned to him right after he the wedding, that he should do so, and spend more time with his family, because her fortune would hold them over for a long time. How they had argued over that prospect. Ichabod played with the idea of resigning in his head for a while, not really sure what he wanted to do.

Eventually, Ichabod decided to go upstairs and help his wife in the process of packing, and found her staring out the window. "Katrina?" he asked softly, causing her to turn, her eyes sad. "I am so sorry."

She watched him cross the room and touch her cheeks tenderly with his hands, before pulling her into a tight hug. Katrina held him close, trying very hard not to break down in tears. "I am sorry as well," she whispered back. "I should not be so selfish."

"You are far from that, love." Ichabod told her.

"No, I am." Katrina sighed. "I was only thinking of myself. You were right. We must go."

Ichabod smiled and kissed her passionately. "It is because of you, Katrina, that I have learned how to live." He allowed her to lean against him, and stroked the ends of her hair. "I am grateful for that."

Katrina raised her head, revealing her stunning eyes, filled once again with their familiar sparkle. They did not need words to express their love to each other, and prepared to kiss again when the door opened. "Oh! Pardon my intrusion, but..."

They turned to see Young Masbath peeping in. "I'm going to go to bed." He announced. Katrina parted from Ichabod and went to plant a kiss on the boy's cheek and embrace him.

"Good night, dear. We'll wake you in the morning."

Young Masbath walked over to Ichabod and gave his master a tight embrace. "Good night, sir. I'll go as you wish." He added, before leaving. When the door closed again, Katrina sat down on the edge of their bed with a sigh.

"When will this ever end?" she asked softly. Ichabod touched his lips softly to her hair.

Part II

Return to Sleepy Hollow

The next morning, Ichabod entered the crowded courtroom, feeling his heart racing against his chest. Katrina and Young Masbath faithfully followed behind, just as they had done when he reported his results of the Sleepy Hollow case the previous New Years. The courtroom was crowded, and the burgomeister sat above everyone as usual, deep in conversation with the high constable. Everyone became silent as the doors to the room opened, and Ichabod stepped through, trying to stand as tall as possible.

Katrina led Young Masbath to one of the benches in the center section, each sitting down. Ichabod walked right up to the Burgomeister's desk, clasping his hands behind his back. "Good morning," he greeted stiffly, ignoring the whispers from his co-workers who stood by the back wall. "I know I was not supposed to report until this evening, but I came to give you this." He handed a piece of parchment to the high constable, who turned it to the burgomeister. "It is my letter of resignation."

The Burgomeister opened the parchment and read it over, his thick, gray eyebrows rising in surprise. This, he certainly had not expected. "I see."

"I plan to become a private investigator, sir." He sounded remarkably calm, which was highly unusual for him when it came to times of stress. The entire courtroom burst into laughter, much to his irritation, and he felt his blood boiling. Katrina and Young Masbath sat scowling at those around them, but did not move a finger.

"A what?" The high constable sniggered. "Surely, Constable Crane, you jest!"

Ichabod's cheeks had turned a bright shade of red with humiliation, but he tried not to loose it. "I do not jest, in fact." He replied.

The Burgomeister smirked. "And just what cases do you plan to privately investigate?" he asked.

Ichabod scowled. "That, sir, is my business." He gave a respectful nod, before turning on his heel and heading down the aisle, motioning for Young Masbath and Katrina to follow him. Laughter once again, echoed through the court, following them out the main doors. Katrina had a bit of difficulty keeping up with her husband's pace, and had to call his name to get him to slow down a bit. Ichabod did so, allowing her to take his arm and give it a tight squeeze.

"I am so proud of you," she began. "How come you did not mention that you were going to do this last night?"

Ichabod rubbed his hand over his face, and sighed. "It would have made me too nervous," he admitted. "I needed to do it on my own will."

Katrina glanced at Young Masbath who trailed behind, watching passerby's on the sidewalk opposite them. "Sir, what are we going to need to buy for the trip? It 'tis a two day's journey, is it not?"

Ichabod nodded, still feeling slightly sick over what he had just done. "Yes. We must rent a horse and carriage to pick us up tomorrow, and we have to buy extra provisions."

"We can get what we need for the journey here, but we can get whatever else it is we need in Sleepy Hollow." Katrina pointed out. They stopped at the blacksmith shop first, to rent the horse and carriage.

"What time would you like it to arrive, sir?" The blacksmith asked in his gruff voice.

"Nine o'clock." Ichabod replied, handing the man a few coins.

"Very well." The blacksmith smiled, shaking hands with him before bidding them a good day. They stopped at the general store to pick up a few fresh loaves of bread for the journey, and cheese. Ichabod was rather silent with the exception of his discussing prices with the store owner, and Katrina wanted to just pull him into her arms and do her best to comfort him. Young Masbath carried the packages and walked behind them a couple of feet.

Once they returned home, the three of them gathered once more around the fireplace in the living room for lunch, which was a fairly meager affair as neither had much of an appetite. Katrina fumbled clumsily with her needlepoint, while Young Masbath sat on Ichabod's lap, reading his new pirate story out loud in place of his workbook. Katrina, once she'd had enough of the needlepoint, she decided to clean house. "What is the point?" Ichabod asked, yawning rather hugely. "We're leaving in the morning."

Katrina raised her eyes. "And I would prefer not to come back to a filthy home, Ichabod." She took a feather duster out of the large desk in the corner.

"Do you need help?" Young Masbath asked, yawning as well, resting against Ichabod's chest sleepily. Katrina smiled.

"No, I'll take care of this, love. Besides, I can not sit still." Katrina immediately began dusting the parlour.

Ichabod shifted Young Masbath over a bit so that the two could rest more comfortably, and he put the open book in between them. "You're doing fine, my boy." He complimented. "I'm just going to close my eyes for a bit, all right?"

Young Masbath nodded, and continued reading. A few paragraphs later, he could hear a soft snoring, and saw that Ichabod had fallen sound asleep, his head resting against the back of the chair. He tried hard not to laugh out loud at the noise, and hated the idea of crawling down and accidentally waking his master up. So, Young Masbath dropped his book to the floor with a soft THUD, before lying his head comfortably on Ichabod's shoulder, closing his eyes.

When Ichabod awoke, he found that he was still sitting in his overstuffed chair. The room was very dark now, with the exception of single, lit candle sitting on the tiny cabinet piano in the corner. Ichabod was about to stretch, when he felt a heavy weight on his chest. When he looked down, he saw that Young Masbath was lying against him, sound asleep with a throw blanket over his shoulders. 'Hmmm...' When Ichabod turned his head, he saw the boy's new book lying on the floor at his feet, and realized that they must have fallen asleep while reading. He gave a small grunt, hoisting the boy up a bit. "Young Masbath," he spoke softly, shaking the servant gently.

Young Masbath only mumbled something inaudible, and struggled to lay back down again. "Come on, lad, it's time for bed," Ichabod added.

"Noooo." Young Masbath protested weakly, refusing to open his eyes.

Ichabod closed his eyes, trying to decide what to do. He was still inexperienced at taking care of children, and wished Katrina had not decided to go to bed before waking him first. At last, he decided to lift the boy into his arms, blanket and all, and carry him upstairs. Young Masbath hung limply over his master's shoulder, his arms dangling along Ichabod's back. Ichabod nearly fell backwards when he pulled the door open to Young Masbath's room, and stumbled a bit once he set the child to the floor. "Just for a moment," Ichabod promised, pulling down the blankets. Young Masbath's eyes opened halfway, and he appeared to have absolutely no idea where he was.

"All right. Up we go." Ichabod helped the boy climb into bed, and watched with a small smile as Young Masbath turned over on his side. "Good night, Young Masbath." Ichabod turned to walk away, but at the last minute, bent down and planted a gentle kiss on the child's cheek. Young Masbath reached his hand up and touched Ichabod's messy black hair, before sighing in content, and bundling deeper into his blankets. Ichabod smiled to himself, before heading out of the room and into his own.

Katrina was not asleep, in fact, but she was sitting up in bed reading one of her old books. "Still awake, my love?" Ichabod asked, starting to unbutton his shirt. Katrina smiled softly.

"I did not have the heart to wake either of you." She replied, as though she were reading his mind. Ichabod came over to the bed and kissed her hair.

"I love you." He whispered, before getting into his nightshirt and crawling into bed beside her. Katrina immediately hid her book beneath her pillow, and took her husband's hand in her own, placing it against her lips. Ichabod sighed in content, lying down on the pillow, his dark eyes watching her fondly. "I am so glad that the pickety witch decided to kiss me and not run away." He added, receiving a smile.

"Does it surprise you that I didn't?" she asked, raising her head.

"I..." Ichabod blushed, and she narrowed her eyes.

"You are more handsome than you realize, Ichabod." She promised. "And full of such spirit that is dying to be set loose."

Ichabod chuckled. "I hardly think..."

"Shhhh." She touched his lips tenderly with her fingertips. "You made me so proud today," she whispered. "I know you must be scared, but you musn't be. Young Masbath and I are always here for you."

Ichabod's eyes misted a bit, but he did not actually cry. "I am scared." He admitted. "I tried to convince myself that what I was doing while standing in front of the Burgomeister was wrong, but..." he tried to say something more, but nothing would come out. "Kat-Katrina, what..." he whispered. "Have I done?"

Before she knew it, he had broken down sobbing softly in her arms.

Neither Ichabod, Katrina or Young Masbath were in the greatest of moods after awaking before dawn. The trio bustled about, making sure they had everything together for the journey back to Sleepy Hollow. Young Masbath shuffled from the bedrooms to the front hall, setting down their luggage.

"Here," Ichabod mumbled, placing a large box that carried their food and drink into the boy's arms.

Katrina stood off to the side, fingering the plain gold wedding band on her ring finger. Breakfast consisted of a bowl of porridge each, along with a cup of rosemary tea. They were standing out on the front step at five of nine, dressed in their finest and warmest things. "Oh come now," Katrina sighed, pulling Ichabod's arms around her waist. "We're not going to behave like this for the entire trip, are we?" she raised her eyebrows at Young Masbath who sat on the step below them, leaning his chin in his palms. The boy shuddered slightly as a ghust of chill wind blew past him.

"It's freezing, sir!" he exclaimed. "Why can't we wait inside for the carriage? We'll still be able to hear..." before he could finish his sentence, the sound of wheels bouncing along the cobblestone street broke the awkward tension, and the carriage pulled to a stop right in front of the sidewalk.

"Good morning!" the driver greeted, hopping down to help Young Masbath with the bags. Katrina continued to shiver, despite her fairly heavy coat, and was grateful when Ichabod helped her onto her seat. Once when were all sitting down, the driver shut the door and climbed back up onto the high seat. He gave a great "Yah!" and the horses began to move.

Katrina leaned against Ichabod, allowing him to wrap his arm around her shoulders and rest his cheek against her hair. Young Masbath gazed out the window, his dark eyes filled with depression. "Ow!" he yelped when they hit a pot hole, and glowered at the bottom of the carriage.

"Why don't you practice your reading, Young Masbath?"

Young Masbath sighed. "I can't ride when it's bouncy like this." He grumbled.

Ichabod raised an eyebrow. "I know you're upset with me, lad, but please, try to make the best of the situation."

Young Masbath stared at his master in alarm. "I'm not upset with you, sir," he insisted. "I'm just..." he closed his eyes and rested his head against the frost-covered window. "I don't know. I do not want to go back to Sleepy Hollow, not when I have been so happy in New York."

Katrina smiled at the boy. "We all feel that way, love."

"Here." Ichabod reached over and gave the servant boy's hand a firm squeeze. "The most important thing is that the three of us are together. We're a family." He smiled softly.

"I'll try to be patient, sir." Young Masbath promised.

"Good." Ichabod sat back in his seat again, watching as the boy turned away to look at the moving scenery once more.

The two-day journey seemed to drag on forever, but at last, they approached the small town of Sleepy Hollow. It appeared as though nothing had changed structure-wise, but the feeling that something was not quite right hung over the new arrivals like a great storm cloud. The usual mist was thicker than ever, covering the town like a wet, gray blanket.

When the carriage reached the main entrance to the Van Tassel estate at last, Katrina gave a slight shudder. She had not been here for so long, and it looked almost foreign. Ichabod wrapped his arm around her, having felt the shiver, and watched as the driver hopped down from the seat. "Thank goodness we've arrived," Young Masbath mumbled rubbing his behind with a grimace. "That was the bumpiest ride I've ever been on!"

Katrina and Ichabod smiled at each other, thanking the driver when he pulled open the small door, and Ichabod paid him. "Good evening." The driver tipped his hat and climbed back onto his seat, giving a great "Yah!" and the horses began to gallop away once again. When he disappeared around a bend, Ichabod looked at his family with nervous eyes, and they walked the rest of the way down the path to the front steps.

Van Ripper stood on the porch, smoking his pipe when they approached, and Katrina grinned in delight. She'd known the man for years, and he was a very close friend. To Ichabod's surprise, she embraced Van Ripper in a tight hug, pecking a kiss on his cheek. "It is so good to see you again!" she exclaimed, and he nodded respectfully.

Van Ripper chuckled, and patted her hand. "You look lovelier than ever, my dear." Then he glanced up at Ichabod and Young Masbath, who stood a few feet away, awkwardly silent, and went over to shake each of their hands. "We are so grateful that you have agreed to come," he told Ichabod quietly. "Our town has been in quite a state since the start of all of this."

"Which was when?" Ichabod asked, aiding Young Masbath with their luggage as they made their way into the mansion. Katrina felt slightly sad when she took in the familiar surroundings, still exactly the same as the last time she'd been here.

"About a month ago, Constable."

"How far apart did each of these disappearances occur?"

"About a day or two each," Van Ripper replied, taking the large, brown suitcase from Ichabod's hands. "You should not have to carry this." He turned to Katrina. "And I have a warm fire going in each of your quarters, so you can rest up from your journey."

Katrina blushed slightly. She was so used to sharing a room with Ichabod that the idea of having her own was quite odd. It would be improper to mention that she and Ichabod would want to share a room, so she just nodded politely. "Thank you very much. Young Masbath, run along, sweetheart." Katrina urged the boy to go and rest, before turning to Ichabod. "You should rest too, love. It has been a long journey for all of us."

Ichabod shook his head. "Not until I hear more about this case. But feel free to go and rest." He kissed her softly, and she agreed to do so, though reluctantly.

"All right. I'll see you in a few hours then." She turned and walked away. When she was out of earshot, Ichabod asked Van Ripper to follow him to the old Van Tassel library. A large cloud of dust rose in the air when Ichabod pulled open the door, and he coughed slightly.

"I can certainly tell the servants have not been here," he croaked, motioning for Van Ripper to have a seat. "So. How many have disappeared as of late?" Ichabod opened his ledger and pulled a pen out of his overcoat pocket, prepared to begin jotting down the details. Van Ripper frowned slightly.

"Three of our servants, and several schoolboys."

Ichabod's stared. "That many in such a short time?"

Van Ripper nodded. "We thought perhaps that the servants had run off, but we have searched the entire area and found no trace of them at all. No footprints, nothing."

Ichabod wrote this down, and rubbed his chin. "I see. Vanished into thin air it sounds like..."

"We think that this place is being haunted by another ghost," he whispered.

Ichabod raised an eyebrow. "But the horseman has gone back to Hell if you remember," he pointed out.

Van Ripper did remember, but he shook his head. "Not the horseman this time, but another."

"And you came to this conclusion because?"

"They began disappearing on All Hallow's Eve...the one night when the barrier between the dead and the living thins."

Ichabod sighed. "These are all of the details you have for me so far?"

Van Ripper nodded gravely. "Aye. I'm sorry we do not have more, Constable. It is a very suspicious issue in deed."

Ichabod shut his ledger. "Well, I shall get right on this then. There must be some sort of clue that leads to the servant's whereabouts." He turned towards the window, gazing out over the fields. He could see a few men wandering about carrying rifles, chatting amongst each other. For a few moments, neither Ichabod or Van Ripper spoke, until the house's dead silence became too much.

"Something's happened," Van Ripper suddenly spoke up, peering at Ichabod curiously. "You seem different."

Ichabod blinked. "How so?"

"I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's just...something."

Ichabod tapped his ledger uncomfortably. "Well, I resigned my position as city Constable."

Van Ripper leaned back in his chair and gave a chuckle. "You jest!"

Ichabod shook his head. "No, I am not jesting. I resigned a few days ago, and am now a private investigator. I did not have to ask my superiors for permission to take on this case."

Van Ripper nodded. "That was a bold thing to do. So should we still call you Constable Crane? I do not want to misuse the title..."

Ichabod smiled. "You may still call me Constable. I am, technically." He suddenly yawned, covering his mouth with his hand just in time. "Excuse me. I think I will go and get some rest. Katrina was right...it has been a long day." He stood up, grimacing as his joints screamed from having been in the carriage for so long. "Thank you again for agreeing to keep watch over the place." He added, before leaving.

Ichabod walked down the hallway and decided to peep into his wife's room, to see if she had fallen asleep yet. In deed she had, and was lying on her side, her head nestled on top of her hands. He went over to her side, kneeling down, and caressing her cheek with his fingertips.

"Mmmm...hello." She whispered, her eyes still closed, but her lips turned up in a smile as he kissed her.

"I did not mean to wake you. I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

Katrina's eyes opened, and she gazed fondly at her husband, reaching for his hand. "Did you find the news you were looking for?" she whispered.

Ichabod kissed her again. "Not quite what I had expected, no. But, I am bound and determined to find some sort of a clue...anything...that could lead to the discovery of those poor people."

Katrina nodded in understanding. "You always were clever in doing that." She complimented, making him blush. "Come, crawl into bed beside me." She moved over a bit, revealing just enough space for Ichabod to fit into. Ichabod chuckled.

"If you insist." He removed his large overcoat, draping it over her desk chair, before sliding into bed beside her. He enveloped her body into his arms, resting his forehead against her bossom.

While the residents of the old Van Tassel manor slept, a strange mist began to rise over the grounds, surrounding the place in a thick, heavy fog. A sad, lonely voice sung softly, and the sound of faint hoofbeats echoed down the wide, dirt road facing the mansion. The hoofbeats suddenly stopped, and the mist began to clear, revealing a startling transparent figure sitting on top of a white steed. It appeared to be a man dressed in very fine clothing, his long, white hair pulled back into a single tail. A large hat sat on top of his head, with a feather sticking out from it, and he held the leather reins firmly. The figure continued to sing a melancholy psalm, as he urged the horse forward again down the path.

"_Spirit of faith, come down,_

_reveal the things of God_

_and make to us the God head known_

_and witness with the blood._

_Tis thine the blood to apply_

_And give us eyes to see,_

_Who did for every sinner die_

_Hath surely died for me..._"

"Sir..."

"Mmmmph." Ichabod mumbled and moved a bit in his sleep, massaging Katrina's hands, which were touching his stomach softly. He felt someone shake his shoulder, and when he opened his eyes, he found Young Masbath kneeling down beside the bed. "Good morning." Ichabod yawned. "Excuse me."

"It's not morning," Young Masbath chuckled, "It is seven o'clock in the evening. You and Katrina have been napping all afternoon, and we just finished making supper."

Ichabod gently awoke Katrina, who was startled to be lying in bed in her day clothes, awaking with a start. "Ichabod, where am I?" she gasped, clutching his arm and gazing around the room in a frenzy. Ichabod pulled her close, and kissed the top of her head.

"It's all right, my love. We're back at your old home, and we have just woken up from a nap." He caressed her cheek. "And it is time for dinner."

Katrina shook her head stretching, and allowed Ichabod to help her to the floor. They gasped when they stood in the doorway of the dining room. On the table sat many platters; one contained a very large, roast turkey, bowls of assorted vegetables, fresh bread and butter, and cups of wine sat at each plate. Young Masbath prepared a plate for himself, and went to join the other servants in the kitchen, but Ichabod stopped him.

"You may join us, Young Masbath." He encouraged, making Katrina smile, as she served herself. It was only then she realized just how hungry she was.

"I couldn't sir," Young Masbath stuttered, blushing slightly. "It wouldn't be proper."

Ichabod cleared his throat and nodded to the empty seat beside him, and Young Masbath, with Katrina's nod of permission, sat down with his master and mistress. Rarely were servants given such an honour to do so, and Young Masbath felt his heart swelling with joy. He did not start to eat until Ichabod and Katrina began, and talk was soon replaced with the clanging of forks and knives against plates. Van Ripper came into the dining room, startled to see Young Masbath sitting at the head table.

"It is all right," Ichabod explained. "I invited him to eat with us."

Van Ripper nodded. "I see. And is everything all right?"

"Delicious," Katrina complimented. "Absolutely delicious."

Van Ripper beamed, before walking out. He had barely been gone for more than a minute, when Ichabod suddenly felt a tickle in his nose. He sniffed a bit, trying to get rid of the irritation, but it refused to go away. Quickly, he fumbled in his trouser pocket for his handkerchief, and pushed the chair back a bit. "_HeISHHHHHH!_" he sneezed violently, his body lurching forward as a result. Young Masbath and Katrina each looked up from their meals, staring in surprise.

"God bless!" Katrina exclaimed.

"Thank..._eh_...thank...I think..._eh...HeISHHHH! ESHHHH! HehSHHHHSH!_" he clamped the handkerchief over his mouth and nose, closing his excessively watering eyes. Van Ripper had come back into the room at that point, a concerned expression on his face.

"Are you all right, Constable Crane?" he asked timidly.

Ichabod blew his nose once the sneezing fit ended, and he nodded, clearing his throat. "Yes, thank you." He sniffled again, feeling extremely congested, despite the recent blow.

"Sir, I think you're going to sneeze again..." Young Masbath announced, noticing the far away look in his master's eyes, and the sudden crinkling of Ichabod's brow.

"I think...you're right..._ISHHHH! HehSHUUUSH!_ My goodness, excuse me!" Ichabod apologized.

"God bless," Van Ripper chuckled, watching as Katrina stood up, hurrying over to feel her husband's forehead.

"I don't think you're catching a chill," she told him with relief. "You do not have a temperature."

Ichabod glanced up at her. "I may have just gotten a bit of dust up my nose from the road," he suggested.

Young Masbath frowned. "But you didn't sneeze when we first arrived, sir." He pointed out.

Katrina stroked Ichabod's hair softly, and planted a kiss on his cheek before returning to her seat to continue eating her supper. Ichabod finally pulled his chair back to the table, setting the handkerchief over his knee so that he would have easier access. He had a feeling the sneezes were not finished with him yet, for his nose still itched terribly. Young Masbath was still watching his master nervously, as though preparing to jump to Ichabod's aid when he needed it. "Young Masbath, your food is going to turn cold if you don't eat it now," Katrina scolded lightly.

Ichabod gave the boy a reassuring smile. "I'm all right now." He insisted, though he spoke too soon. Before he even got a chance to pick his fork up again, he backed his chair away from the table, nearly knocking it over, and the handkerchief went over his nose and mouth again. "_IsHHHUH! HeSHUUUH! IsHHHH! HehISHHHH!"_

Katrina was at his side again, rubbing his back in gentle circles, and Young Masbath stood opposite her, waiting to be of any service. Van Ripper came back in, standing in the doorway with his arms folded. "_HehISHHHH! IsHUUUH! SHUUUH!"_ Ichabod groaned, blowing his nose for the second time that night.

"God Bless you." She told him thoughtfully. "Are you finished, love?" Katrina asked hopefully. She'd never heard her husband sneeze this much before. Well, when he'd had a cold the previous spring she had, but the sneezes had not been quite this frequent. He sounded absolutely terrible.

"I th-think..._ISHHHUH! ISHHHH!_ I'm going to go up to bed," he grumbled, using Young Masbath's help to struggle to his feet. Katrina took his arm and ordered Young Masbath to finish his supper.

"God bless. I'll help you." She promised.

"Good night, Constable Crane," Van Ripper announced, and Ichabod nodded to him respectfully, nearly flying forward with another, "_HehISHHHH!_" He turned Katrina helplessly as she led him out of the dining room.

"God bless you," she sighed. They barely made it a few feet down the hall when Katrina slipped and fell flat on her back, pulling Ichabod with her. "Oh!" she cried out, wincing in pain, and watching as the ceiling spun above her. Within seconds, Young Masbath and Van Ripper were at their sides, helping them up.

"Katrina." Ichabod grunted, taking hold of her shoulders. "Are you all right, my love?"

Katrina nodded, straightening her gown. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you, Young Masbath..." she added, before peering down at the ground by her feet. A large pile of black and white ash lay on the carpet, and her heel prints were visible from where she had slid on it. "Where did this come from?" she asked, pointing. Ichabod put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, watching as Van Ripper walked over to the ash, peering more closely at the substance.

"You know...we've been seeing several piles of this ash scattered about the house."

Ichabod turned to Young Masbath with a chuckle. "Have you been playing in the fireplace, Young Masbath?"

Young Masbath raised his head in surprise. "Of course not, sir!"

"I wonder where it comes from," Katrina thought out loud. "It's strange looking...I don't think I've ever seen fireplace ashes that color before..." she frowned.

Suddenly, Ichabod's breath hitched, and he fumbled for his handkerchief quickly. "_Eh...eh...EHSHIIISH! HeISHHHH! ISHUUUH!"_ He nearly stumbled forward from the force of the explosions, but Katrina caught him just in time.

"God bless you. Let's get you up to bed before you hurt yourself," she told him firmly.

"Are you certain you both are all right? That was quite a fall," Van Ripper pointed out.

Katrina nodded. "We're fine, thank you," she promised, and she brought Ichabod to the old staircase.

"I wish I knew what was making me sneeze," Ichabod sniffled, once they went into his quarters. The fire had almost died down in the fireplace, and Katrina went to re-light it as he took off his boots.

"Well, those ashes were giving off a strange scent I must admit," Katrina told him, standing back once the fire was at a full blaze.

"I couldn't smell it," Ichabod grumbled. "I'm still so stuffed up." He sniffled and sat down on his old bed. Katrina stroked his forehead.

"Just rest now." She kissed him, before tucking him under the covers. "Shall I bring you some rosemary tea?"

Ichabod smiled thoughtfully. "I would like that, yes. _Ih...IsHUUH! ISHHHH!_" he groaned as more sneezes erupted, and Katrina shook her head sadly.

"I'll be right back." She hurried out of the room and down the stairs, nearly running right into Young Masbath, who was coming towards her.

"Is he asleep?" the boy asked, chewing on his lower lip nervously.

"Not quite yet, but he is in bed." Katrina sighed. "Has that pile of ash been cleaned up?" She quietly descended the stairs, heading into the dining room. Their dinner plates were still there, Ichabod's only half-empty. "Well, I suppose we'll get rid of this." She suggested. "I doubt he'll be wanting it anytime soon."

Young Masbath took Ichabod's plate, fork and knife into the kitchen to clean them off, while Katrina sat down in her seat and tried to finish what she had left. However, her appetite had dwindled since their arrival, and she found that she could not eat anymore. Young Masbath, however, finished the last of his meal, making her smile.

"You must have been hungry," she chuckled.

"Mmm hmmm." He replied. "Should we bring dessert up to Ichabod later? It's pumpkin pie...I think that's a favorite."

Katrina nodded. "We'll see. I really think he needs to just sleep for the rest of the evening, especially with all of the work we'll be doing with this case."

"_HehISHUUUH! ISHHHUH!!"_

Both jumped when they heard more sneezes from upstairs, and shook their heads. "I should bring him some rosemary tea, though, to help clear his nose," Katrina thought out loud.

"Good idea," Young Masbath agreed. "Though doesn't rosemary tea keep you awake? Maybe you should try chamomile or something like that..."

Katrina smiled. "Very good thinking." She patted him on the arm. "All right, then chamomile it shall be." She pushed back her chair. "I think I'm finished eating for right now."

"But you won't say no to the pie, will you?" Young Masbath teased, collecting both of their plates. Katrina laughed.

"I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing!" she ruffled his hair, receiving a "Hey!" and a poke in the side. Young Masbath grinned at her, before going into the kitchen to take on his duties in helping the rest of the maids clean up from supper. Katrina, meanwhile, went to the old medicine cabinet to pull out the oak herb box. It was still fairly full, and she took a few pinches of chamomile flowers. Then she got a mug from one of the cabinets, blowing some of the dust away, before heating some water over the fireplace. The flames burst up as soon as she set the kettle over it, causing her to gasp and jump back in surprise. It had never done that before!

'What's going on around here?' she thought, staring. She went to reach towards the flames again with the little shovel used to gather excess ashes, and it burst up again, as though it had a spell cast upon it of sorts. "Van Ripper?" she called anxiously, and the man appeared in the doorway, concerned.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Watch." Katrina placed the shovel near the fire, and the flames burst up again. "What's happening?"

"I knew something supernatural has been occurring here, I knew it!"

"But nothing happened when I worked with Ichabod's fireplace or mine!" Katrina exclaimed. "Why this one?"

"I'm not sure."

"Those ashes in the corridor...maybe..." Katrina was tempted to run up and wake Ichabod, but remembering his health held her back, and she stood staring at Van Ripper with a frightened expression.

"Quickly, take that kettle off of the fire with those tongs...and we'll put it out immediately. The last thing we need is for this entire mansion to burn down." Van Ripper aided Katrina in the process, and as soon as the kettle was sitting on the table, they extinguished the fire with buckets of cold water and dirt. Smoke rose from the ashes, giving off a rather putrid scent, making Katrina's stomach churn.

"As soon as Ichabod awakes in the morning, we'll explain this to him. There has to be some reason why these ashes stink so badly!" she poured the hot water into the mug, and mixed the chamomile flowers into it. "I'm sure we'll find clues to find where those poor lads disappeared."

Van Ripper nodded. "Would you like some pumpkin pie before going upstairs? It's been a long day for everyone, and if Constable Crane is anything like I remember, he'll want to get an early start on the case tomorrow."

Katrina chuckled. "Yes, I would love some of that pie." She accepted a plate. " Young Masbath?" She called, and the boy came out of the kitchen, wiping his wet hands with a towel. "I'm going up to bed, love, and I suggest you do the same when you're finished your chores and your dessert. I am sure Ichabod will want us to be up at some ridiculous hour again tomorrow."

Young Masbath nodded. "I will. Good night, Katrina." She planted a kiss on his cheek before accepting two plates, and Young Masbath offered to help her carry the tea. Ichabod was still awake when they entered his room, scribbling something in his ledger. He still held his handkerchief in one hand, and every so often rubbed his nose.

"Hello." He greeted, smiling as Katrina kissed him on the forehead, and accepted the plate of pie and mug of tea from Young Masbath. "Thank you."

"Are you feeling any better, sir?" Young Masbath asked, stepping back a bit, as Katrina pulled up a chair beside the bed, reaching over to feel Ichabod's forehead again.

"No fever still." She frowned. "At least you're not getting sick."

Ichabod set his things down to blow his nose again. "I don't feel achy or feverish, but my sinuses are bothering me." He groaned.

"Do you feel well enough for dessert?" Young Masbath chuckled, watching as Ichabod took a grateful sip of the tea, breathing in the rosemary vapors as best as he could. Ichabod chuckled.

"Yes, I think so."

Young Masbath turned to Katrina. "Well, I'm off to bed, then. What time do you want us to wake in the morning?"

Ichabod glanced up. "Fairly early, but not before dawn. We all need a good night's sleep, I _eh...ISHUUUH! ISHHHH!_ Excuse me...think."

"Bless you, sir," Young Masbath sighed.

"Thank you. Good night, Young Masbath."

Young Masbath turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him. When he was gone, Katrina sat down and began to eat her own dessert, savoring every bite. Ichabod finished his writing and set the ledger aside, finishing the last of his pie and tea. "Are you sleeping with me tonight or in your own bed?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I think I'll sleep in my own bed for tonight, to let you get proper sleep." She kissed him again. "I love you." She whispered gently in his ear.

"Mmm...I love you too." Ichabod replied, handing her the dirty plate and mug, watching as she followed in Young Masbath's wake.

After breakfast, Katrina explained the fireplace phenomon from the previous night to Ichabod. He stared at her.

"Why did you not mention this last night?" he asked, quickly jotting down the information in his ledger. Young Masbath sat beside his master, leaing his head against his arms as he was still half-asleep.

"You weren't feeling well last night, and needed rest. The last thing I wanted to do was worry you over that." She gazed at him through hopeful eyes, and Ichabod sighed.

"Katrina, please. Next time something like that occurs, I don't care if I'm hanging from a rooftop from my ankles. Please, tell me." He touched her hand, and Katrina nodded, kissing it.

"I wll remember to do so." She smiled softly.

When they had finished eating, Young Masbath hurried to gather their coats so they would not freeze to death while outside. He rushed upstairs to fetch Ichabod's large, black bag upon command, and set it on the floor in the hall waiting patiently. "Where are we to go first, sir?" he asked curiously, raising his eyebrows.

"The parlour," Ichabod replied, "where the first thing happened. Katrina...you said the ashes were giving off a strange scent?"

Van Ripper watched from the doorway with his arms folded.

"That's right. Though I don't smell anything odd now. And the fireplace didn't smell last night..."

Ichabod frowned, kneeling down so that he could peer more closely at the piles of ashes in the hearth. He noted that they appeared to be a perfectly normal color...grey and almost paper-like.

"Hmm." He cleared his throat. "We found that pile of ashes on the carpet...they were black, I think..."

"Black with some white, and they felt like dirt," Young Masbath agreed. "Are we sure they were ashes..."

"Young Masbath!" Katrina chuckled, giving him a playful whack on the arm with her glove.

"What?" Young Masbath asked, raising his eyebrows.

Ichabod smirked as they went back into the hallway. "My headset, Young Masbath, if you will." He asked kindly, and the boy opened the satchel with a small pop. He pulled out the magnifying lenses, and handed them to Ichabod. "Thank you." Katrina pulled Young Masbath aside, so that Ichabod had plenty of room.

"What are you doing?" Young Masbath asked curiously, giggling at the ridiculous things.

"Checking to see if the maids left any kind of a leftover trail of ashes to follow."

"Ahhh..."

Ichabod pulled the largest of the magnifying lenses out a bit further than the rest, and lowered his head so that he could peer closely at the rug. Young Masbath prepared to open the front door, watching Ichabod crawl down the corridor. After a few moments, he shook his head, removing the "goggles", and handed them to Katrina who stood closest. "Nothing." He wiped his hands on his pants and glanced at his family. "All right. I think what we can do next, is to go into town and start finding out as much information about the disappearances as we can. Van Ripper?" Ichabod turned. "Do you know by any chance the names of these lads?"

"I know a few of them, Constable."

"Good. Can I have their last names please?" Ichabod opened his ledger once again, and held his pen ready.

"Let me see..." Van Ripper thought for a moment. "Steendam, Kelder, Jager, Louwers, Smidt..."

Ichabod raised his eyebrows in alarm and stared at Katrina, who had her eyes on Young Masbath worriedly. "How old were these boys exactly?"

"I believe his age...close to eleven or twelve."

Young Masbath gasped in fear. "Sir..."

"Shhhh." Ichabod soothed, jotting the information down. "Are they all you know?"

Van Ripper nodded. "So far, yes. Good luck to ya, Constable."

Ichabod urged Young Masbath and Katrina outside, and they shut the door behind them. "We don't even know where to start, sir!" Young Masbath pointed out, walking very closely between Ichabod and Katrina.

"I know where some of these people live," Katrina announced. "They were friends of my father's, some of them, and we were always inviting them to parties and the like." She took hold of Ichabod's arm, trying to brace herself from the cold.

"Excellent." Ichabod beamed at her.

"The Jaggers live right down there...behind the church," she explained, "And the Steendam's live just beyond the covered bridge on the right side..."

Ichabod rubbed her shoulders as they continued walking in the direction of the Jager's home. "What would I do without you, my love?" he asked.

"Wait, wait, I think I remember the Kelders, sir! Their son was an apprentice to Mr. Killian the blacksmith..."

Katrina frowned slightly, remembering the jolly man, who had been yet another of the headless horseman's victims. "I see." Ichabod sniffed. "Well. That knocks three names from our list." They approached the home of Derrick Jagger, a common villager, who was startled to find the Constable at his doorstep.

"Good day, sir," he greeted in a gruff voice. "What can I do for you?"

"I am Constable Ichabod Crane," Ichabod introduced himself. "This is my wife, previously known as Katrina Van Tassel..."

"Well I'll be!" Mr. Jagger gasped.

"Good to see you," Katrina curtsied.

"We heard your son disappeared recently?" Ichabod asked, once Mr. Jager allowed them inside. He turned.

"Yes. He was out back chopping firewood when my wife called him in for supper. He never returned, and it's a right mysterious as we have no idea what on Earth could have put the notion in his head to run away!"

Katrina frowned. "No family troubles?" she asked.

"Not that I know of. I'm a might worried, Constable. There've been reports of other children disappearing in these parts without a trace..."

"Yes, I know." Ichabod nodded. "I am very sorry to hear of your loss..."

Mr. Jagger's eyes suddenly misted over. "I want to know what's happened to my boy!" he whispered.

Ichabod smiled softly. "We'll do what we can."

"Thank you." Mr. Jager replied, watching as they left the house.

"But...do you mind if we have a look around your property? Where do you keep your wood pile?"

"Right behind the house."

"Thank you." Ichabod lead Katrina and Young Masbath around the back of the small home, and sure enough, there lay a pile of partially-chopped wood. Ichabod walked over to it, touching the wood tenderly with his fingertips. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary that he could detect. At least nothing until...

"Sir?" Young Masbath stared. "Are you all r..."

"_HehISHHUUUH! ISHHHHH!_ Oh here we go again." He sniffled.

"Bless you!" Katrina watched as he wiped his nose with his handkerchief. "_HehISHUUUH! ISHISHHH! ESHUUUUH!_" he cleared his throat, and watched as Young Masbath inspected the area around the woodpile and beyond.

"Sir, look!" he suddenly cried out, pointing downward. Ichabod walked over to where the boy stood, and frowned. Sure enough, lying in a pile a few inches from Young Masbath's feet, were ashes.

Before Ichabod could say a word about them, he sneezed explosively yet again, "_HehISHUUUH! ISHHHH!"_

"Bless you." Katrina sighed.

"They do look very similar to the pile we saw yesterday," Ichabod pointed out.

"Oh!" Katrina suddenly clasped a hand over her nose and mouth. "Do you smell that?"

"Yes!" Young Masbath gasped, turning slightly green, and covering his own mouth and nose. "Like rotten eggs! And those ashes are the same color as the ones we saw yesterday...this is odd!"

Ichabod felt too miserable to respond. His nose itched so badly that he could think of doing nothing but to keep sneezing as much as possible. "_ISHHHUH! ESHHHUH! HehISHHHH!"_ He blew his nose, wanting desparately to sit down somewhere-anywhere. Katrina rubbed his back as he continued sneezing, while Young Masbath went to feel the ashes.

"They feel the same too, sir. Like dirt."

Suddenly, the three of them heard a loud scream echoing through the village, and whirled around. From where they stood, they could see the town square, and a woman was running towards it. "HE'S GONE! MY BOY IS GONE! SWEET LORD ABOVE, HE'S GONE! SOMEONE HELP ME!" She screeched, collapsing into a near faint in the center of the town square. Katrina covered her mouth with her hands.

"Ichabod!" she gasped.

"Young Masbath, inform Mr..._HehISHUUUH!_"

"Bless you, sir." Young Masbath chuckled. "And I will." He hurried back to the house to let Mr. Jager know where they would be, and that they would return later. When he caught back up with Ichabod and Katrina, they were already halfway to the town square. Ichabod's sneezes had died down, thankfully, by the time they reached the fallen woman. She was middle-aged, with graying hair covered in a bonnet.

"Calm down, Madam, please." Ichabod knelt down beside her, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"My dear child," the woman sobbed, as though she did not even realize Ichabod was there beside her. "Please help me..."

Ichabod smiled weakly. "That is what I am here for, Miss." He extended his hand. "I am Constable Ichabod Crane from New York. I'm not sure if you've heard of me..."

She suddenly gasped, staring at him through her red-rimmed eyes as she accepted the shake. "Constable Crane..." she struggled to her feet with Katrina's help, thanking her kindly. "I have heard of you, yes, and your victory over the headless horseman. We did not think you would return."

Ichabod nodded. "Yes, well..." he watched as she brushed herself off, and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe her eyes. "Now...can you give any information regarding your son's disappearance? Where was he when you last saw him?"

She stared. "He was in his own bed! I went to fetch him for school, and he was gone!" she began to sob again.

"Gone from his own bed?" Ichabod blinked. "Was the room in any kind of disarray?"

The woman shook her head. "No. Everything was perfectly in tact...except for his bed, which was left unmade. He never forgets..." she continued crying, and Ichabod glanced at Katrina helplessly. Katrina tried to comfort the woman as best as she could.

"It's going to be all right." She soothed. "Might we have a look around your son's room to see if we can't find any evidence?"

The woman nodded, hiccouging a bit. "Y-yes." She sniffed. "I am sorry," she apologized. "I must look a fool."

Ichabod shook his head. "No, of course you are not a fool. Lead the way."

Young Masbath and Katrina tagged along behind as they headed towards the woman's house. Along the way, they found out that her name was Mrs. Maria Kensington, and her son William had recently turned 10 years old that spring. The house, when they entered, was rather small compared to the Jager's place, and to Ichabod very dark and grim despite the few candles that lit some of the rooms. He glanced up and saw a few dead chickens hanging from the kitchen ceiling rafters, and noticed a few bowls sitting on the table.

She took one of the candles, and brought them up a narrow flight of stairs, lighting the way. This place was so different from Ichabod's own home, which was usually bright and cheery (thanks to Katrina.). They approached William's room, and Mrs. Kensington opened the door, stepping aside to let them in. As she had said, nothing looked out of the ordinary, with the exception of the unmade bed. 'The unmade bed!' Ichabod thought to himself, hurrying over to pull down the sheets, when suddenly, "_HehISHHUH!_" He quickly turned when a sneeze exploded, startling everyone.

"God bless!" Mrs. Kensington told him worriedly, looking at Katrina, who shook her head sorrowfully.

Young Masbath's eyes were wide as Ichabod fetched his handkerchief, while sitting down on the edge of the mattress. "Sir, are you all right?" he asked, rushing over to his master. Ichabod shook his head, covering his mouth and nose with the square of cloth.

"_HehISHHHUH! ESHHHUUUH!_ Young Masbath," he croaked, "Pull the sheets off of the bed please..._IsHHHUUUH! HehISHHHH!"_

Young Masbath did as he was told, and he gasped in shock, his face turning even whiter than usual. Mrs. Kensington screamed, and Katrina stood gaping. "Ichabod..." she whisperd, pointing. "Ashes..."

Ichabod, his eyes watering again, turned to see what they were talking about, and he felt faint. Sure enough, a pile of black ash lay in the middle of the bed, only a few inches from Ichabod's hand. "_HehISHHHUUH! ISHHHH! ESHHHUH! HehISHHHHH!"_ Ichabod continued sneezing, starting to gasp for air.

"Get him out of here, quickly!" Katrina told Young Masbath, suddenly realizing something. "I think I've come up with a solution to his sneezing fits!"

Young Masbath helped his master stand, and quickly led Ichabod out of the bedroom, with Mrs. Kensington following behind them, candle still in hand. They hurried outside, and Ichabod was grateful to be able to take a breath, clutching at his aching chest. "Sit down, love." Katrina encouraged, lowering Ichabod to the doorstep. Mrs. Kensington hurried back into the house to fetch a glass, and went to fill it up from the pump with water.

"Here, drink this," she offered, and Ichabod gratefully accepted it, chugging half of the water down in only a few gulps. He leaned against the doorframe, panting.

"Ichabod? Are you all right?" Katrina asked, sitting down beside him.

"I think so..." he gasped. "Thank you." He told Mrs. Kensington, who nodded.

"I know this is going to sound strange," Katrina began, "but I've been noticing a pattern between these fits. Goodness, you're rubbing off on me!" she chuckled in realization. "Everytime Ichabod's started sneezing, there has been a pile of ashes nearby, just like the one on William's bed. Identical."

Ichabod blew his nose loudly, making Young Masbath jump a bit. "Wait!" Young Masbath stood. "Those piles of ashes were found right near the area where the boy's disappeared..."

It was now Ichabod's turn to stand, and he paled even more than usual, if that was possible. "H-human-a-ash..." his eyes suddenly rolled into the back of his head, and he collapsed in heap on the doorstep. Katrina cried out when hit the ground, and she immediately knelt down beside him. Mrs. Kensington stared at them, her eyes wide as saucers.

"Are you saying that those are the ashes of my son???" she asked in horror.

Katrina nodded, as Young Masbath aided her in heaving the fallen man to his feet. "We need to get him to a chair or a bed as quickly as possible." Mrs. Kensington led them inside again and brought them to the cushioned chair in the parlour. Katrina sat Ichabod down, smoothing his forehead with her hand. "The reason I am saying this, is because we found a pile of similarily coloured ashes in my home, and also in Mr. Jagger's backyard by his woodcutting pile. Each area was where their lads were last seen. Now, do you believe that a ghost is haunting the area again?"

Mrs. Kensington nodded. "There has been talk of ghost sightings, but nothing has been confirmed yet." She went to fetch a few damp cloths, and Katrina placed one on Ichabod's forehead, while sponging his cheeks with the other. Ichabod finally cried out and shot up, embracing Katrina tightly, his head against her shoulder.

"Shhhh." She soothed, stroking his messy black hair. "Thank you," she told Mrs. Kensington.

"Of course."

When Ichabod composed himself, he found that he was blushing furiously for having passed out in front of a complete stranger once again. "I am so sorry..." he apologized, starting to stand, but Katrina held him down.

"It is not your fault," Mrs. Kensington promised, feeling slightly faint herself.

"It all makes sense now I think," Ichabod thought out loud with a slight cough. "We found the ashes at each of the sites where the lads were last seen..."

Katrina smiled, and planted a kiss on his forehead. "I've already discovered that, love." She whispered, making him smile.

"Have you?"

Katrina nodded. "But now, we must decide about this ghost."

"Yes." Ichabod sniffed. "Ma'am, do you have any idea of where we can locate the Louwers and the Smidts? Their sons have disappeared also..."

Mrs. Kensington nodded. "They live right by the edge of the wood, on the other side of the covered bridge."

Ichabod allowed Young Masbath and Katrina to help him stand, and soon they thanked Mrs. Kensington for her assistance, before leaving. As soon as they were out of earshot, Ichabod turned to Young Masbath. "I think we ought to get three horses for this. It is a bit far to walk to the edge of the wood, and I am still feeling a bit dizzy." He rubbed his pounding forehead. Katrina nodded in agreement.

"They still keep the horses at Mr. Killian's, I think. That's the only stable in these parts for the public."

After a late lunch, they went to the old stables, where a new blacksmith (Mr. Killian's apprentice as Katrina pointed out, due to the fact that she'd seen the boy working around the shop the previous year) sat pounding at a metal horse shoe. He was at least twenty years old, and was so involved in his work that he did not even hear them enter. "Pardon our intrusion," Ichabod spoke up, causing the boy to cry out and fling the horseshoe across the room. Young Masbath ducked with a yelp as it hit the wall behind him.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't hear you come in." The young man wiped his hands on his pants, apologizing to Young Masbath. "Constable Crane! Good to see you again! And Miss Katrina..." he shook all of their hands firmly. "And Young Masbath..."

"How is it going?" Katrina asked quietly.

The boy frowned. "All right, I suppose. Even after a year, I'm still getting my barings." He smiled softly. "What can I do for the three of you then? You look in a rush."

Ichabod nodded. "We are here to borrow three horses for the afternoon. We're investigating the case of those missing boys..."

"Ah yes...it's very suspicious in deed. Have you found anything yet? Any-clues?"

Katrina and Young Masbath stared at each other. "Um..."

"We think so. But we'll have to further investigate the situation." Ichabod explained. "Is Gunpowder still here? I think I'd like to borrow him again. I grew rather attached to that horse...it was a shame I had to give him back before we left for New York."

Katrina smiled and took Ichabod's arm, squeezing it gently. The blacksmith took Katrina and Young Masbath's "orders", before going to fetch the animals. Ichabod took his family back outside to wait, and they stood watching as the boy led Katrina's white pony Milady, and Young Masbath's brown one Rook. Gunpowder seemed to recognize Ichabod right away, for he nuzzled his rider affectionally on the neck, snorting softly and snickering. Ichabod patted the gray pony's rump, chuckling as a bit of a smoky powder protruded from it.

"Thank you very much," Ichabod told the blacksmith, handing him a few coins.

"Thank you, Constable. Good luck." The blacksmith saluted them, watching as they mounted their horses and took off at a trot towards the old covered bridge. Ichabod remembered when Brom had been sliced in half here, and he felt eerie when he crossed over it, listening to Gunpowder's familiar clip-clops.

"Sir, **I'm scared**," Young Masbath squeaked. "I want to be brave, really I do, but..."

Ichabod smiled at him, keeping his hands tightly around the reins. "Understandable, Young Masbath. But we will not let you out of our sight."

Young Masbath smiled, before turning to face ahead again. The village seemed strangely silent again, with the exception of a very faint wind rustling through the trees. A loud howl could be heard in the distance, causing the hair on the back of everyone's neck prickle.

"**Werewolves**," Katrina whispered. "I heard rumors that they reside in our Western Woods as well." She was clutching the reins so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Ichabod smirked.

"Werewolves?"

"Werewolves are humans that have been bitten by a wolf, and by the light of the full moon turn part wolf themselves."

Young Masbath's eyes grew large.

"Come now, Katrina, you of all people do not believe in such nonsense, do you?" Ichabod asked softly, steering his horse forward a bit. Gunpowder's tail swished back and forth, his ears twitching every so often.

"Of course I do." Katrina replied. "Ichabod, you are so narrow-minded sometimes. Why can you not just believe in things that do not necessarily have an exact evidence of truth?"

Ichabod stared at her. "Because I can not bare it." He admitted simply. "My mind is troubled enough with my nightmares of times past. Sense and reason is all that helps pull me through life with somewhat of an ease. I am afraid I would go crazy if I began believing in witchcraft, werewolves and other supernatural phenomenon."

Young Masbath frowned. "But you believed in the horseman when you saw it."

Ichabod nodded. "You said it, Young Masbath. I saw him. That makes all the difference."

Katrina sighed. "If you actually saw a werewolf, then you would believe it?"

Ichabod gave another nod, and Katrina shook her head sorrowfully. No matter how hard she tried, she could not seem to pull her husband from his old ways. They soon approached the edge of the wood, where a few cottages sat only a few feet apart. Katrina turned Milady to an angle, so she could survey the area surrounding the homes. "Perhaps we could investigate the wood?" she suggested, remembering when they found the "tree of the dead", the resting place that belonged to the headless horseman.

"Yes, we ought. But first, let me ask the Louwers and the Smidt's some questions, and try to find out more about this ghost. There has to be a reason why the ghost is doing such a thing."

"Do you think he's turning their bodies to ashes, sir?" Young Masbath asked quietly.

"Well, I do not know what I think. But I cannot be sure of anything until I hear the history of this ordeal."

They dismounted once they approached the comfortable-looking homes, and tied the ponies before walking up to the first door. Ichabod had Katrina and Young Masbath stand a few inches behind him, while he knocked on the door. A young girl opened it, timidly stepping back when she saw Ichabod. "Hullo," Ichabod greeted kindly, with as warm a smile as he could conjur. "Is your mother or father home?"

The girl nodded, her dark brown curls bobbing a bit. "Papa! A man is here to see you!" she hurried into the living room, bringing her father, a strong, broad-shouldered man with hair pulled back into a single ponytail down his back.

"I am Constable Ichabod Crane," Ichabod introduced himself. "I do not mean to barge in uninvited, but I am here to investigate the disappearances of the lads from the village. And your boy was one of them, am I correct?"

Young Masbath set Ichabod's satchel on the ground, growing weary of carrying it.

"Yes, you are, sir. And it is a pleasure to meet you at last, Constable Crane. Your victory over the horseman was quite impressive. Come in, come in. And it is a pleasure to see you again, Miss Van Tassel..."

"Mrs. Crane, actually," Katrina chuckled, blushing a little, as she encouraged Young Masbath to follow them inside.

"Oh! Congratulations!"

"And you are...Mr. Louwer?" Ichabod asked, taking his black ledger and quill out of his bag once they were seated in the parlour.

"Smidt, actually. The Louwer's live next door." Mr. Smidt pointed in the other direction with his thumb. "Can I fetch you all a cup of tea? My wife is out in the market, but she should return within the next hour or so."

Ichabod shook his head. "No, I am all right thank you. Would either of you care for one?" he turned to Katrina and Young Masbath, who shook their heads also.

"No, thank you."

Ichabod's nose started to run slightlty again, so he pulled out his handkerchief to give it a small blow. "I'm sorry." He apologized, sniffling.

"No worries. This is the time of the year for chill's." Mr. Smidt sat down, watching his young daughter clear the table of leftover breakfast dishes. "Now what exactly would you like to hear, Constable Crane?"

Ichabod opened the ledger and prepared to write. "Tell me about this ghost."

Mr. Smidt raised his eyes. "Well, this story is an old one, even older than that of the headless horseman. About thirty years ago, a middle-aged man named Orvis Reeves came to Sleepy Hollow from England just at the start of the war. We had lost our original school teacher to an illness the previous winter, and found that this man was in deed qualified for the position, and put him to work straight away. For a little while, everything seemed to be fine, until the schoolboys came to their parents with complaints."

Ichabod cocked his head to one side. "Complaints?"

"That the new schoolteacher spent most of his time humiliating them verbally, ripping them apart with words. He called it "spare the rod and spoil the child"."

Young Masbath cringed, grateful that Ichabod and Katrina were teaching him his letters and numbers, and not some strange teacher. "Anyway, what the residents of Sleepy Hollow did not realize, was that this teacher was actually a British sympathizer. His plan was to try and take over the colonials. One of the boys in his class overheard him speaking with another man about the idea, and ran home to tell his father. Well, this aroused anger in our town, and the villagers conspired to put an end to this man for good."

Katrina took Ichabod's hand in her own, feeling her heart pounding against her chest. She had not heard this story before.

"What did they do to him?" Young Masbath asked in an almost squeak.

Mr. Smidt leaned forward, folding his hands. "They set the school on fire. Unfortunately, the poor soul was trapped in the building, but we do not know whether he perished or not. His bones were never found in the ruins."

Ichabod was trembling by the end of the tale. "I see..." he cleared his throat. "I think I understand. The ghost of this schoolmaster wants revenge on those who took his life in such a violent manner. Were you in anyway connected to the men who burnt the school down?"

Mr. Smidt nodded. "One was my grandfather, as a matter of fact."

"Then it all makes sense!" Ichabod began feverishly jotting down the details in his ledger.

"But I thought you did not believe in ghosts." Katrina pointed out, causing her husband to stop writing.

"I did not say I thought it was the ghost who was taking the children, Katrina. What I a thinking, is perhaps it is a situation similar to the horsemans. Perhaps someone roused the ghost from its grave, which is why you cannot find the bones, and is controlling..."

"Ichabod, that ghost wants revenge! It does not necessarily need someone to control it!" Katrina exclaimed.

"She is right, sir. Ghosts are simply spirits with "unfinished" business."

Ichabod rubbed his face with his hands. "All right. Where is the ruin of the old schoolhouse?"

Mr. Smidt nodded towards the back of the house. "About a quarter mile or so into the woods."

Ichabod stood, placing his ledger back into his bag, and handed the satchel to Young Masbath once again. "Thank you very much, Mr. Smidt. We will see what we can find there."

Mr. Smidt shook Ichabod's hand firmly, and nodded respectfully to Katrina and Young Masbath before they left the house. Ichabod contemplated this new information over and over in his head. The ghost of a schoolmaster who had been trapped inside of the burning schoolhouse. Mysterious disappearance of the bones. It had to come together somehow. The ride to the schoolhouse took about twenty minutes, and the trio stood staring at it in amazement. Ichabod saw the remainder of what looked like an old well a few feet away from the stone foundation of the building.

"Look at this, sir," Young Masbath breathed. "Burnt to the ground!"

Katrina shook her head. "It's horrible. Absolutely horrible. I do not care how wicked a person is...I do not believe in such an abominable act."

They dismounted again, and stood gaping at the ruins. "Good gracious," Ichabod breathed, absentmindedly pulling out his handkerchief. Young Masbath walked forward, going over to inspect the well, while Ichabod pulled out his magnifying spectacles to get a closer look at the contents on the ground.

"Look over here," Katrina announced, and Ichabod turned to where she stood by one corner of the ruin. A few piles of black ash lay in a row, along with a few scraps of cloth. Ichabod quickly clamped the handkerchief to his nose, prepared, as he joined her. He knelt down on the damp grass, grimacing as the wet soaked through his trousers. Young Masbath, meanwhile, had spotted something lumpy in the ashes inside the well, and had begun to dug through the pile out of curiosity.

"Yes...these are the s-the s..."

Katrina stared at him as his breath hitched. "Oh Ichabod...are you going to..."

Young Masbath glanced over his shoulder, just as Ichabod let out a violent, "_HEHSHUUUH!_" clank the magnifying lenses slid right off of his face and to the ground.

"Sir!" Young Masbath dashed over to his master, kneeling down beside him. "Are you all right?"

Ichabod closed his eyes. "Stand back," he gasped. "_HEHISHHUUHHH! ISHHHH! ISHUUUH! ESHUUUUH!"_ Katrina picked up the lenses, inspecting them for any signs of damage. "_ISHUUUUH! HEHISHHHHHUH! ESHHHHHUH!_" he gasped for air again, his cheeks turning slightly blue. Katrina was shaking with fear as she watched her husband, and she immediately heaved him to his feet.

"Get as far away from these ashes as you can, Ichabod! Oh God, he's turning blue! Young Masbath, bring him away quickly!" She yelled, and Young Masbath did as he was told, leading his master as far away from the piles of human ashes as possible. Once they were far enough and Ichabod was able to catch a breath, he slid to the ground, but did not loose consciousness for once. His chest rose up and down with pants, and his hand covered his heart.

"Ichabod..." Katrina dashed over and knelt down beside him, touching his cheek with the palm of her hand.

"Kat-katrina," Ichabod whispered. "I c-can't breathe."

"But you are breathing, sir." Young Masbath pointed out.

"C-can't breathe," Ichabod gasped, before his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

"Oh God." Katrina sobbed, holding Ichabod to her breast, tears falling down her cheeks. "He's so sick..." she stroked his thick hair, cuddling him close. "Please, Ichabod, wake up!"

"Not with a normal illness, though." Young Masbath pointed out. As the two of them sat with the unconscious Ichabod, a sudden snap of a twig brought them both to silence. Katrina continued holding her husband in her arms, staring at Young Masbath.

"Did you hear that?" Young Masbath whispered, his face growing white again.

"Yes," Katrina replied. "Ichabod, please..." she kissed his forehead tenderly.

A few moments later, Ichabod's dark eyes fluttered open. He felt so dizzy, that he was almost afraid to move. Katrina continued to stroke his forehead, kissing his cheek. "Is that you, Katrina?" he whispered hoarsely, all strength gone from him. Young Masbath looked up, searching the wood, trying to decipher where the noise had come from.

"Wait...I see something, I think..." Young Masbath spoke up, standing to his feet, and shielding his eyes.

"Mmm?" Ichabod asked weakly, holding a hand to his forehead as he struggled to sit on his own. He still had a sneezy feeling in his nose, but he was too tired to give into it.

"A whisp of white there...I can't quite tell."

"Listen!" Katrina suddenly added, and everyone turned silent, staring at her. A soft, sad voice echoed through the trees, singing quietly an old church hymn that Ichabod remembered hearing as a boy.

_Spirit of faith come down,_

_Reveal the things of God,_

_And make to us the God head known_

_And witness with the blood_

_Tis then the blood to apply_

_And give us eyes to see_

_Who did every sinner die,_

_Hath surely died for me..._

Katrina helped Ichabod to his feet, and allowed him to lean on her shoulder as they trooped forward into the wood, trying to get a better look at the stranger. They could see the back of a white horse, its rider perched on an English saddle, gazing ahead. He did not seem to sense that Ichabod, Katrina or Young Masbath stood there, which only confirmed the stories.

"Sir, look what I've found! I almost forgot...before you fainted, I think I saw something inside the well ruins..."

Ichabod turned to him, and nodded. "Dig around and see, Young Masbath. I don't think it's safe for me to come over there as yet." He called.

Snap another twig broke in half, and heads lifted, as they saw the ghost coming back the other way. It appeared to be pacing. "But don't ghosts come out at night, sir? It's still late afternoon," Young Masbath pointed out.

"Now that is superstition," Katrina added. "Sleepy Hollow is always subject to ghosts, because we rarely see a ray of sunlight at all during the fall or winter months."

"Keep digging," Ichabod encouraged, and Young Masbath returned to work, cringing at the smell of the ash and the feel of it against his fingers. He suddenly stopped digging, and his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

"What is it?" Katrina called, keeping one eye on the ghost and one eye on the boy. The ghost had stopped riding at her voice, and stood staring. Young Masbath reached into the ruin, and pulled out a human skull, partially deformed and blackened from the flames long past. He stood and held it up, staring at it's hollow eyes.

"I think I've found the body," he explained. "See this?" he presented the skull to Ichabod and Katrina. Katrina gasped, and Ichabod's own eyes widenend.

"Does it want that?" Katrina asked, remembering how the horseman had only returned to hell when it's skull had been returned.

"You aren't going to make me walk up to a ghost!" Young Masbath hissed. "Not unless one of you comes with me!"

Ichabod managed to straighten up, feeling a bit better. "All right." He cleared his throat. "Bring it over."

Young Masbath hurried over to his master carrying the skull, and the two stood facing the ghost. Ichabod led Young Masbath forward, until they were only a few inches away. Katrina held her breath, watching as the ghost continued to stand still, staring. Suddenly, it raised it's arm and turned, pointing to the well.

"What is it that you want?" Ichabod asked, puzzled.

"Can you talk as well as sing?" Young Masbath asked, his voice trembling. "Are you going to hurt me?"

The ghost shook its head, and continued pointing, until Ichabod turned his head towards that direction. "Ahhh, I think I see what it wants."

"What's that?" Young Masbath whispered.

"It wants to be put to proper rest. Am I right?"

The ghost nodded, and they saw it's horse's tail swish.

"_Home_," it suddenly spoke, causing them to jump. "_Bring me home_."

"Home?" it was Katrina's turn to step forward. "Where is that?"

"_Home, bring me home._"

Ichabod cocked his head to the side. "Fetch me my ledger, Young Masbath. Let me see the details of that tale."

Young Masbath handed Ichabod the skull, and hurried over to the open satchel, pulling out the black leather book. Suddenly Ichabod covered his nose with his elbow and let out a harsh, "_HEHISHSHUUUH!_ Excuse me." He sniffed, watching as Young Masbath handed him the book and his pen. The ghost continued to watch them, as Ichabod flipped through the many pags of the book, finally coming to the tale of the schoolmaster. "He was an English sympathizer...England must be where he is from."

"What are we to do then? We can't very well go all the way to England," Young Masbath broke in.

"Would the Sleepy Hollow church yard be close enough? Or would you like us to personally send your remains overseas?" Ichabod asked. "That would take quite a while, sir."

The ghost frowned slightly.

"And there could be a possibility that your remains would be lost," Katrina added softly. "If we buried you here, they would be garunteed to be safe."

"Sleepy Hollow was where you did reside," Ichabod added. "At the time of your death..."

"_You, boy, what is it that you are thinking_?" the ghost suddenly boomed, and Young Masbath cried out, grasping onto Ichabod's arm.

"I...I think...w-we should burry them here. It would take at least a month to sail to England by b-boat, sir. A-and they c-could get l-lost that way."

The ghost stared at him, watching as Ichabod placed both hands on Young Masbath's shoulders protectively, and held the boy close. "_Very well. By midnight, under the __**full moon**__, I would expect my bones to be properly buried in the church graveyard. If a single piece is missing from the grave..._"

"Please, I am of no value to you, sir!" Young Masbath sobbed. "Ichabod, don't let him..."

Ichabod stared at the child, startled that Young Masbath had used his first name. "_Foolish child. You discovered my bones, you were the first to touch them. You are mine if one is out of place._"

Katrina sobbed, embracing Young Masbath, who's eyes were wide with fear. "Y-yes, sir." He turned to Ichabod, tears starting to roll down his pale cheeks. Ichabod pulled Young Masbath into a hug.

"Shhhhh. I am not going to let you go." He insisted, turning once again to the ghost. "You will have your wish."

"_Very well. Midnight at the __**full moon**_" He turned the horse and kicked its sides, trotting away. Young Masbath continued to cry softly into Ichabod's overcoat, terrified. Katrina stroked the boy's hair, and looked up at Ichabod.

"We must hurry."

"Yes."

Young Masbath let go of Ichabod, wiping his eyes with the corner of his coat sleeve, and followed Katrina over to the well. He still held the schoolmaster's skull under one arm, but he quickly picked up what he could. Ichabod, for fear of becoming ill again, only stood and watched. "Put them in my satchel," he told them, once all of the bones were found. "We'll be able to carry them this way."

"Perhaps you'd best come and make sure we have them all, sir. I don't want to be turned to ashes!" Young Masbath wailed. Katrina glanced at her husband with a raised eyebrow, frowning slightly. "I know it makes you sneeze, sir, but..." he whimpered.

Ichabod sighed and nodded, covering his mouth and nose with his handkerchief. Katrina, after setting her pile of bones into his satchel, rushed over to take his arm for safe measure, and helped him walk over to the well. Young Masbath stood off to the side, watching them anxiously. "My lenses if you please, Katrina." Ichabod spoke to her, his voice muffled behind the linen cloth. Katrina did as he told her, carrying them over and placing them into his free hand. Ichabod shook his head.

"Can you put them on me?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Of course." She asked Young Masbath to help her, and together they managed to strap the goggles over the back of Ichabod's head. Whenever he had them on, Young Masbath had to laugh...they were too funny. Ichabod smiled at him through the handkerchief, and began digging through the ash, trying to ignore the sudden urge to sneeze. Katrina held the goggles to his head, in case he sneezed and knocked them off again.

Hours later, the trio continued digging around for the remains of the bones, finding fragments of the schoolmaster's teeth, fingers, and fragments that had broken off from the other bones. Katrina did not even mind that she was becoming filthy, digging around in the dirt and old weeds. "I've found some over here, sir." Young Masbath announced, showing Ichabod his handful of bones. They continued to put the debris into Ichabod's satchel, to make it easier to transport to the church. Eventually, once darkness fell and the moon began to shine brightly in the black velvet sky, Young Masbath climbed out of the well to fetch a small digging shovel from the harness of Rook's reins. Just before he reached the horse, the ghost of Orvis Reeves reappeared.

"_How far are you along, boy?"_ the ghost sneered.

Young Masbath opened his mouth to reply, but he could not seem to speak through his fear.

Ichabod's head appeared over the top of the ruin, and his eyes widened. "NO!" he shouted, just as the ghost made a languid gesture, and the lad was wreathed in eldritch blue flames, icy argent moonlight glinting off their flickering edges. Young Masbath struggled against the heat, watching as Ichabod crawled out of the ruin, with Katrina right behind him.

"Let go of him!" Katrina screamed, running towards the spectre, but she was knocked aside by a string of the blue flame.

"Katrina!" Ichabod cried out, rushing over to her. "What is the meaning of this?" he added harshly to the ghost, stifling a sneeze with his sleeve. "_HehISHHHUH!_"

"Bless you." Katrina whispered quickly.

"_The boy stays with me until this is settled_," the ghost insisted. "_And if it is not done properly, I shall tend to him as I tended to those others who showed me disrespect. He shall burn and I shall claim his soul_." He reached out and pointed to the lad. Streams of blue-white mist stretched from his fingers, wrapping around Masbath where he stood, before the great bell pole in front of the building. Ichabod gestured for Young Masbath to come and stand beside him, but when Young Masbath made to move, he found that his body was actually bound to the pole.

"Sir, help me!!" Young Masbath gasped, as the heat seemed to take his breath away.

"Don't struggle!" Ichabod ordered, urging Katrina back into the ruin. They gathered up the last of the bones, shoving everything into the black leather bag. Katrina scrambled around, making sure that they had not missed any extra fragments."It gets dark early in the late autumn...don't you dare harm him! It is not yet near midnight!" he added sharply to the ghost, before leading Katrina to Milady, helping her mount, before setting his things down and mounting Gunpowder. Young Masbath felt hot tears filling his eyes, as he heard Ichabod call,

"We'll return as quickly as we can, Young Masbath! I promise!"

Young Masbath stared at the ghost, grasping the invisible "ropes" about his chest so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "Should we fetch the Reverend?" Katrina asked, panting as they dashed over the old, covered bridge as fast as their horses could go.

"We don't have time for that," Ichabod replied, digging his heels into Gunpowder's side, wishing the horse were a few years younger.

It took them nearly fifteen minutes to arrive at the graveyard, a place Ichabod had seen one too many times. Katrina dismounted, taking Ichabod's satchel in her arms, and then helped him down to the ground. "Fetch me the shovel," he ordered, sounding as he had before digging the horseman's grave. Katrina did as she was told, stepping back a pace while he dug in a fresh, open plot of dirt. Katrina fought back tears that so desparately wanted to spill over her cheeks, thinking of Young Masbath trapped by the ghoul. Dirt flew every which way as Ichabod dug, and she had to duck a couple of times to avoid being hit with the soft bits of earth.

"Hand me my satchel, love." Ichabod glanced up as Katrina retrieved the large, leather bag, and accepted it.

"Are we going to have to form the bones in the shape of a human body?" Katrina asked, wondering if that was what the ghost wanted.

"That is going to be near impossible I am afraid, but we can at least get the bones in a similar fashion."

Katrina nodded, starting to climb into the grave to help Ichabod. "No, Katrina. You have already helped us dig them up in the well remains. I do not want you to..."

Katrina stroked his forehead. "I do not care about getting dirty, Ichabod. Young Masbath's life is in the balance...I will do anything to get him back."

Ichabod kissed her lips tenderly, before popping open the bag. "Now I am reminded once again of why I love you so much." He replied, smiling as he took the schoolmaster's skull out first. Katrina stood watching patiently as her husband laid out each and every ragment of bone into the grave, trying his best to re-create the human form they once took. The air grew extremely chill by the time Ichabod had finished, and he was shivering from head to toe once he climbed out of the grave at last, despite his heavy winter coat.

Katrina peered down at the bones, quite impressed by his work. She took a piece of purple chalk out of the pocket of her gown, and drew a very large circular charm around the grave. This charm, that Ichabod and Young Masbath had once thought was the "evil eye", was actually the protection of a loved one from evil spirits. 'Thank goodness she gave me that book when I first arrived here,' he thought, listening as she muttered a few phrases in latin. Her eyes were closed as she spoke, and she waved her arms about in gentle, circular motions.

"Let us fill the grave," Katrina announced, once she had finished, and the two of them together dumped the dirt back into the hole. Just as Ichabod patted the earth firm with the back of his shovel, Katrina gasped when she looked over her shoulder. "Ichabod," she called, nudging his arm with her elbow. Ichabod stood up and turned towards the direction she was looking, and his mouth dropped. The ghost of Orvis Reeves sat atop his horse a few feet away from his new formed grave, with Young Masbath clinging for dear life around his waist.

"_My soul is finally free_," The schoolmaster began in a quiet tone. "_I was never able to leave the grounds of the school since the fire._"

"Then please...let our boy go," Ichabod begged, watching as Orvis dismounted, lifting Young Masbath to the ground. Ichabod hurried over to the lad just as the flames disappeared. He reached Young Masbath just in time, for the boy collapsed in a dead faint in his arms.

_"You've schooled this one well, Crane," _The ghost complimented. "_He held his ground despite his fears._"

Ichabod lifted Young Masbath into a cradle-like position, backing away a pace. "T-thank you." He stuttered.

"_I believe many thanks are in order as well_." The school master held out a ghostly hand, which Ichabod managed to touch in a shake, shivering from the cold. Suddenly, the schoolmaster's eyes narrowed. "_THOMAS!"_ he shouted. "_Stop skulling about behind woman, and get out here!" _Katrina whirled around just as the spectre of a ten year old lad walked right through her. She gasped in shock, falling to the ground. "_Front and center, young man!_" The boy stood firm, his smoky hair rustling in the breeze. "_You'll not be staying behind to cause mischief for these people_." Swiftly, Orvis Reeves grasped the child by the ear, and drug him along behind him, disappearing into the mist.

Ichabod's mouth dropped as the teacher and student faded from view. He turned towards Katrina, who was just standing, shifting the weight of Young Masbath in his arms.

Katrina hurried over to Ichabod, touching Young Masbath's hand. "It is over, Ichabod." She sighed with relief. "Young Masbath has had quite an ordeal. It is no surprise that he fainted."

All Ichabod could say in reply was, "He...I..." suddenly his face crinkled up, much to her disappointment, and he let out a final violent, "_HEHISHHUUUH!_" Young Masbath did not stir at the noise at all, and Ichabod was grateful that he did not drop him.

"Bless you," Katrina chuckled, embracing her husband in a tight, loving hug.

THE END


End file.
